look amazing,’ I say and then feel like a fool. Francesca always looks amazing. ‘I’ll just grab some lunch and join you.’
I join the queue at the counter, which is snaking towards the exit. Being lunchtime, the café is pretty hammered and I’m worried that I’m holding Francesca up. We hardly ever meet up these days and when we do, it’s only for a fleeting coffee or glass of wine before Francesca has to dash off to see a client or associate. I’m amazed she’s still sitting with her magazine by the time I return to the table. I’ve bought myself a sandwich and coffee and treated us to a cherry and oat slice each.
‘Not for me, thanks.’ Francesca flashes me an apologetic look as I slide one of the cakes towards her. ‘Not this close to the wedding.’
‘How are the plans coming along?’ I sit down opposite Francesca and eye my cake. Should I leave mine too, in an act of sisterly solidarity?
‘We’re getting there.’ Francesca bites her lip nervously but I know her wedding will be perfect. With her father’s money behind it and Francesca’s flair for design, it’s going to be amazing. ‘I wanted to talk to you about the wedding, actually.’
‘Oh?’ Is she going to ask me to be a bridesmaid? It’s pretty unexpected as although Francesca and I have been friends since we were six, we’re no longer particularly close. We were the best of friends throughout our early childhood but when we went to separate secondary schools – Francesca to the posh, all girls’ school while I enrolled in the bog-standard local high school – we started to drift and forged new friendships. We’ve kept in contact all these years and we went through a stage of double-dating when I was with Ben, but it will never be the same. But maybe one of her bridesmaids has had to pull out for some reason and, as her former best friend, I’m the next best thing?
‘It’s about Ben.’
My heart starts to gallop at the sound of my ex’s name. I can’t help it. I’m truly pathetic. ‘Ben?’
Francesca’s eyes drop to her mug and when they finally meet mine again, they’re full of apprehension. ‘Jeremy’s asked him to be best man.’
Oh, sod it. I grab my cherry oat slice and shove it into my gob, not even giving my sandwich a cursory glance.
‘Are you ok, darling?’ Francesca leans forward in her seat, resting a hand on my arm as I chomp away like a demented cow. I’m sure they’ve used superglue instead of syrup in these bloody oat slices. I nod, still chomping furiously. I manage to reduce the clump enough to swallow, albeit painfully. My coffee is still too hot to drink but I gulp down half the cup anyway.
‘It’s to be expected, really,’ I say, though I wasn’t expecting it at all. Although Ben was Jeremy’s best friend, I’d assumed Jeremy would ask his brother to be his best man. Since Jeremy had been his brother’s best man last year, it seemed fitting – and polite – to return the favour. Of course I knew Ben was going to be at the wedding, but I assumed he’d be a regular guest and therefore easy to avoid if I needed to. Part of me hoped Francesca and Jeremy’s wedding would be where we got back together. It would be quite poetic, really; we got together through Francesca and Jeremy – why not rekindle our love through them too?
Actually, this could be a good thing. A very good thing.
Francesca gives my arm a squeeze before she relaxes back into her seat. ‘I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I’ve been meaning to but I kept putting it off. I didn’t want to hurt you or make you feel like I was taking sides, because I’m not. Ben is a good friend of mine and I adore him, but that doesn’t mean our friendship has to suffer. Or at least I hope it doesn’t.’
Francesca looks at me with wide, moist eyes and part of me feels sympathy towards her, being stuck in the middle and everything. But part of me wants to tell to her bog right off. Ben dumped me – cruelly and completely out of the blue – and yet she adores him. What kind of friend does that make her? Lauren thinks Ben is a prick – and pretty vocally too. That’s friendship.
‘Ben is Jeremy’s best friend,’ Francesca continues when I fail to open my mouth to respond. ‘I can’t ignore him.’
‘But you think he was wrong to dump me, don’t you?’ Being stuck in the middle is one thing, but I can’t sit here with this woman if she’s completely on Ben’s side.
‘Of course, darling!’ Francesca reaches for my arm once more, giving it a tight squeeze. ‘The two of you were perfect for each other. I really don’t understand what went wrong.’
Nothing went wrong. Nothing at all. We were happy… and then Ben wasn’t, in the blink of an eye.
‘I wish with all my heart that it had worked out for you guys, but it didn’t and we have to make the best of the situation. I wanted to tell you face-to-face about Ben being best man, to give you a bit of warning. I know you’ve both moved on and everything but it’s still only fair that I let you know.’
‘Moved on?’ I’m sure I can feel the oat cake making its way back up again.
‘You didn’t know?’ Francesca’s eye widen momentarily before they drop to the table top. She peels the crust off her sandwich before dumping it back on the plate.
‘Know about what?’ I prompt when she refuses to make eye contact or elaborate.
‘About Ben,’ Francesca says and I have the horrible feeling I’m not going to like what comes next.
Ben
Text Message:
Delilah: I’ve met the man I’m going to marry! He’s so cool and funny and GORGEOUS! I’m in love. Proper L.O.V.E
Lauren: Have you been watching Grease again? You do know Danny Zuko is fictional, right?
Delilah: It isn’t Danny this time (though he will always have a special place in my heart). This one is real! His name is Ben and he is The One
I met Ben at Francesca’s twenty-first birthday party almost four years ago. The party was being held in a gorgeous, ridiculously grand manor house in the countryside. Francesca had hired the whole house for the weekend and had planned activities such as clay pigeon shooting, archery and tennis tournaments – and movie marathons in the huge cinema room in the basement. There was access to the pool, gym and sauna as well as a chef to cook for us. The reception rooms were transformed into an exclusive club for Francesca’s mates, with cocktails and champagne on tap, plus a band and DJ to entertain us. Francesca sure knew how to throw a party, even back then.
‘Great party, Francesca!’ I flung my arm around my primary school bestie and planted a kiss on her cheek. I was a tiny bit tipsy after sinking several delicious but lethal cocktails. ‘I’m having the best time. I’m glad we’re friends, you know.’
Francesca slipped her hand around my waist and guided me away from the bar. ‘Me too. We don’t catch up often enough, do we? We must make more time for each other. You haven’t even met Jeremy yet, have you?’
I didn’t know who Jeremy was. Had I met him?
‘Here he is.’ Francesca used her free hand to grasp hold of a nearby bloke. He was around our age and quite handsome, if a little toothy for my taste. ‘Come and meet Delilah James.
